


Thank You For Making Me A Part Of This

by lielabell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Christmas, Derek Hale Can Have Nice Things, Holidays, M/M, Nice Things Equals Stiles, Slow Build, Sterek Secret Santa, potential for a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 00:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/pseuds/lielabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"To give up one’s very self — to think only of others — how to bring the greatest happiness to others — that is the true meaning of Christmas"  <i>The American magazine</i>, vol. 28 (1889), p. 742.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank You For Making Me A Part Of This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the--winter--soldier](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the--winter--soldier).



> Written for Sterek Secret Santa 2013 for [the--winter--soldier](http://the--winter--soldier.tumblr.com/). Hope you like your gift, bb.

"To give up one’s very self — to think only of others — how to bring the greatest happiness to others — that is the true meaning of Christmas" _The American magazine_ , vol. 28 (1889), p. 742.

\--

It’s quarter after two on Christmas day and Derek is sitting on a cold bench, in the shadow of an oak tree, overlooking the final resting place of two thirds of his original pack. They aren’t buried side by side on the chunk of land that houses the rest of the Hale pack, the way Derek would have liked, but the plots he enabled the Boyd and Reyes families to purchase are at least in the same section of the cemetery. Close enough that he can see them along with the rest of his family from the bench he’s accustomed to using.

He’s not looking at them now, though. He’s staring off at a clump of trees near the edge of the cemetery where a familiar form in that distinctive red hoodie is carefully laying down a pine wreath decorated with poinsettias. 

Stiles’s head is bowed, his hands fisted at his sides and Derek knows it’s a private moment, one that he shouldn’t be encroaching on, but he can’t look away, not even when the back of one of those fisted hands comes up to scrub tears off of the Stiles’s cheek.

He’s still looking a good ten minutes later, when Stiles turns to leave and, of course, spots Derek on his bench. Stiles looks confused, but raises his hand, waves a little, and Derek nods in acknowledgement, eyes finally shifting back to the graves he is supposed to be standing vigile over. 

Derek keeps his focus on them even as he hears Stiles clomp closer, until Derek can hear his racing heartbeat and ragged breath.

"Hey."

Stiles voice is soft, hushed. In keeping with the setting, Derek thinks. He turns his head slowly and gives Stiles an unsmiling look. Stiles fidgets, hands slipping out from his jacket pockets to hook into the front loops of his jeans. 

"Hey," Derek replies, when silence stretching out between them gets to be too much.

He thinks Stiles will nod, say something passing about the weather or the day, and then be on his way, but Stiles doesn’t. Instead he seats himself on the bench beside Derek, thigh and shoulder casually brushing against him, and then settles back, like he’s planning on sticking around for the long haul. And Derek, well. Derek doesn’t mind letting him.

"Hey," Stiles says again when the sky is starting to go dark blue and the clouds are tinged with orange and pink. 

Derek turns towards him, raises an eyebrow. 

Stiles clears his throat. ”The sun is setting.”

Derek blinks at him. 

Stiles frowns in responses. ”It’s getting dark,” he says. 

Derek lifts a shoulder and Stiles’s frown deepens. 

"It’s Christmas, Derek. You shouldn’t spend what’s left of it camped out here in the dark."

"The dark doesn’t bother me," Derek replies.

"Yeah, well," Stiles dashes a hand through his hair. "It bothers me, the thought of you sitting on this bench, all by yourself in the dark. Come home with me. I’ve got a date with some hot coco, snuggly blankets, and The Muppet Christmas Carol, but something tells me none of them would mind if you joined in."

Derek shakes his head. He starts to say thanks anyway, but Stiles runs right over him.

"You might as well just come over," he says, "I’m not going to leave until you do."

"Stiles," Derek says with an exasperated sigh, earning himself an unrepentant grin.

"That’s my name, alright." Stiles smirks. 

Derek rolls his eyes. ”Fine,” he relents, because Stiles really will stay there, pestering him until he agrees. 

Stiles lets out a crow of triumph and does a little shimmy on the bench beside him. ”This is going to be so awesome,” he says, punching a fist in the air.

"I doubt that," Derek replies, because it’s second nature to him now to rain on Stiles’s parade, but even as he says it, Derek can’t help but smile. 

*

It’s quarter after seven on Christmas day and Derek is sitting on a couch that has seen its better days come and go, laughing at a stuffed rat and a blue monster with an exaggerated nose. Stiles is leaning against him, laughing so hard his body shakes, leg knocking against the coffee table and making their half empty cups of hot chocolate rattle. 

Derek should be looking at the screen, should be focused on whatever comes next, but all he can do is stare at Stiles’s face, watching the way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. His eyes are bright and his cheeks are red and Derek has never seen anything more captivating in his life.

He wants to say thank you, wants to say so much more than that, actually, but all he can do is sit there, mute as a log, and bask in the live wire energy of the other man. 

Stiles snorts at something on screen and turns his head enough to flash a lopsided grin in Derek’s direction, and Derek can’t help but want this moment to last forever. 

Stiles seems to catch on to Derek’s mood, the mirth fading from his face. He snuggles in closer under the blanket, his hand coming down to catch hold of Derek’s. He squeezes it once, then turns his attention back to the show. 

Derek squeezes back, heart thudding in his chest, and spends the rest of the movie thinking about the promise implied by the warmth of the hand held tight in his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Most holiday fic exchanges are filled with all sorts of delightful fluff, and this fic is decidedly not. But then, Derek's current life isn't one that is has what you would call an overabundance of fluff in it. And I wanted to write something that I could actually see happening in Derek's current life. 
> 
> This had a quick and dirty beta, so if anyone sees any mistakes, feel free to point 'em out. :D


End file.
